


How to escape from a dungeon: The Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood edition!

by QueenyClairey



Series: My one shots [9]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Chained up, Disagreements, Enemies to Lovers, Falling for each other, Grinding, Jace knows, M/M, Magnus hates shadowhunters, Sexy Times, Trapped, captured enemies, cats eyes, i fancy you, magical bursts, sexy magic, snarky comments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-09-01 00:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenyClairey/pseuds/QueenyClairey
Summary: Magnus and Alec have been kidnapped and chained up.They have to find a way to escape, but can they stop arguing for a minute to help each other?And will helping each other turn into 'helping each other'?!





	How to escape from a dungeon: The Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood edition!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lichtertanz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lichtertanz/gifts).

> From a prompt on Twitter by @ShadowhuntersOE and on here Lichtertanz. Go and have a read of their writing - it's very creative and a great read!
> 
> "A HOTI and HW get kidnapped. They don't know each other but they begin to quarrel about what is the best way to escape. Something like captured enemies to freed lovers."
> 
> I hope this story lives up to your prompt and you enjoy reading it!
> 
> :-)

Alec comes to nursing what feels like a hangover. His ears are ringing, his head heavy with pain and his whole body aches as though he has gone ten rounds with Jace and lost every one. 

When he finally manages to prise open his eyes, the flashes of purple light make him quickly close them again with a grimace.

“Ah, mighty Nephilim, you’re finally awake then.” 

The tenor of the man’s voice feels like a thousand pins stabbing at his sensitive eardrums and he slams his hands over them tightly to try and ease the pain. 

“Took you long enough!” it continues, muffled through his fingers.

Behind his closed lids, he detects more of the flashes of light in different colours which brings him quickly to a conclusion: Warlock. Well he knows exactly what those are like.

He doesn’t feel bad about his own words when he is finally able to speak, “Perhaps you could stop throwing your obviously useless magic around for a moment, so that I can open my eyes and work out how to solve whatever ridiculous predicament I have found myself in.”

“Obviously useless?” the man protests, voice sardonic, “And what exactly have you got planned to help us escape from this infernal place?”

“Escape?” Alec asks as he finally slides his eyes open and takes in their surroundings. 

He’s leant against a cold stone wall, arms shackled. His legs are spread and there’s an iron bar between them, ankles also cuffed. He’s pretty much incapacitated which explains why his whole body hurts so much. 

Looking further, he sees another figure across the dungeon (for the want of a better description), in a similar state. 

Although he can see the metal glinting at his wrists and ankles, he cannot make out the man’s features beyond towering hair and a shiny jacket. The rest of him is shrouded in shadow. 

The space is lit only by a dull stream of light washing in from a hole high above them. There are no discernible entrances or exits beyond it. 

Alec takes a deep breath as he considers his situation. What on earth has brought him here? The last thing he can remember is heading out on patrol with Izzy, and even that is a little blurry with his painful head.

Eventually, he takes another breath and stares over at what he can see of the other man. “Do you have any idea what happened?” He asks, trying to use his imposing ‘Head of the Institute’ voice in the hope that it will impress his importance upon him and encourage an explanation. 

It does not.

“Piss off Nephilim!” the man barks out harshly, (but also in quite an attractive voice, Alec can’t help but notice). “I’m not here as your lap dog, if you need to know what happened, you’ll have to figure it out for yourself, you’ve got all those pretty runes to help you after all, so make them useful!”

Alec blinks stupidly. Then, at the mention of runes, automatically reaches for his stele. 

He would face plant if he were able to. Of course they’ve taken his stele. It would have been stupid of them to leave him with that.

“I..I can’t..” he says hesitantly.

“Oh, so you’re more like my lame dog now, then?” the warlock laughs, voice not so harsh, but more like he’s amused at Alec’s situation.

Alec sees red, then snaps.

“I don’t see you getting out of your bonds with your magic!” he growls, “You mustn’t be very powerful, warlock!”

He sees the man draw himself to his full height as purple twists of magic fall uselessly around his feet. These flashes show him more, the shape of his body, compact but muscular, the thin golden stripes on his trousers, the way his whole body tenses as he fights to make his magic count, fights to be released from the cold iron grasping him.

Alec can tell that he’s angry because he’s snarling. The sound echoing around the cave and making his own heartbeat quicken - blood pumping faster at the guttural noise.

After a moment, he sees the man’s body collapse, hanging in his bonds as though he’s given up. Then he speaks again, voice defeated.

“I’ve tried everything. I’m powerful, I promise you, or I wouldn’t even be able to produce light, but I can’t break the bonds, they must be lined with werewolf skin, it’s the only thing that can bind a warlock’s power.”

Alec frowns. He has no stele, the other man is bound with a specific substance.

“Then it was obviously planned.” He suggests, trying to see past the murky darkness. “How long have we been here?”

“I don’t know for sure,” the man admits, “I awoke maybe an hour before you, but I think you probably arrived after me. Whatever they drugged me with was strong. I’m guessing you were given something similar too. It made my head so fuzzy that when I woke up, I couldn’t even remember my name.” He pauses, seemingly staring at Alec from the tilt of his head, “It’s Magnus by the way.”

“Oh…” Alec does not expect the pleasantry, but good manners have been instilled in him since birth so he can’t help but respond even if he isn’t sure about telling a strange warlock who he is. “I’m… I’m Alec. I’d say nice to meet you… but clearly that’s not true.”

The man laughs, a soft musical sound that washes through Alec like a gentle caress. He shivers a little, not only from the cold and wonders if Magnus has a hypnotic voice. It’s not like Alec to feel _things_ when he meets strangers, and especially not when he meets Downworlders. Usually he just looks straight ahead and lets Izzy deal with them. He might be the HOTI but in practise that usually means he gets to delegate the tasks that would expose his social awkwardness. Considering he’s been drugged and thrown in some kind of cell, he thinks he’s doing quite well without his sister by his side. 

“I guess I was drugged as well. I was out on patrol with my… with Isabelle,” Alec is loathe to give the warlock any tangible information about himself just in case he’s part of this, “And I really don’t remember anything beyond that which is definitely not like me, so it must have been something strong.”

“Yeah, and you look pretty big too, so it has to have been planned. They’d need to make sure the dose would last long enough to get you down here. Anyway, there’s little we can do about having been drugged. What we need to do is decide how we’re going to get out of here. Would your...your Isabelle be able to trace you? I know you Shadowhunters have ways of doing that.”

Alec catches himself shaking his head before he realises that Magnus isn’t able to see him. 

“No, I don’t think she’ll be strong enough to track me and she doesn’t have a parabati which would make it easier. But, I do agree. We need some kind of plan, especially as your magic and my runes are useless. Won’t your warlock friends be able to find you using some kind of…” he twirls his fingers around, then reminds himself that Magnus can’t see, “Umm...magic?”

Magnus laughs again, the sound rolling around in the hollow space, it’s an attractive sound and it deepens Alec’s desire to see Magnus up close.

“Wow,” he begins, “You really have an issue with the M word, hey? Look, I’ve tried pulling the shackles from the wall, tried everything magical I could possibly think of, tried yelling and screaming for help, tried opening a portal, tried slamming myself against the wall to loosen the bonds. Nothing’s worked so far and I’m pretty much out of ideas if I’m honest, which I’m not usually where your type are concerned…”

“My type?” Alec says, focussing on the wrong thing of course considering their situation (and the fact that Magnus didn’t reply to his question which he finds a little suspicious), but eager to find out exactly what Magnus means.

“I’ve never met a Nephilim who had any respect for a warlock. Or any other Downworlder for that matter.” Magnus muses, shooting a few golden sparks from his fingers and illuminating his face.

Alec sucks in a sharp breath. The man’s cheekbones are sprinkled in gold flakes of glitter, his eyes are deep set and the most beautiful chocolate brown, his eyebrows expertly shape his whole face and his mouth is plump and perfect for kissing. And where did that thought come from Alec asks himself, wishing he could slap his own face and make himself focus. 

In short, Magnus is breathtakingly beautiful and Alec is completely distracted. And half in lust.

He takes another shuddering breath before he can reply.

“Well, sounds like you’ve kind of exhausted all possibilities over there. Let me try over here and I’ll let you know the results of my experiments. Might be a good idea for you to close your eyes for a little while, try to get some rest?”

He hears the man take his own deep breath in.

“I…” he starts and then stops immediately. “You almost sound as if you care, Nephilim. Careful, you wouldn’t want to ruin the reputation of your race for not giving a shit about anyone except mundanes. Also, experiments? That sounds kinky!”

“Hey!” Alec yells, face bright red as he hears Magnus’ last comment on repeat in his head, “You can’t say that to me. You don’t know me, you don’t know what I think or what I feel. Just piss off!”

There’s a long bout of silence and Alec assumes the other man is stewing over his outburst, so he focuses instead on how to get out of the mess he’s found himself in. 

He immediately sees that Magnus is correct, the chains are firmly attached to the wall and there seems to be little give in them, so it’s unlikely he’ll be able to pull them out with sheer strength. It’s also true that he won’t be able to loosen them just by rocking them around, so he uses his keen eyesight to search for something else.

The second his eyes catch on the metal shards, he has an idea.

“Hey?” he calls across the cavern, breaking the stillness “Hey, Magnus? I don’t know if you’re awake or not, but I need you to help me!”

There’s a shuffling sound and then the warlock replies. “Of course you need my help now! Go on then Shadowhunter, do your worst, what exactly do you need me to do?”

“Can you cast some of your...your magical lights over here? I need to see the ground around me and the chains. It would really help me out. Help _us_ out if my plan works.”

“And what, pray, does the mighty Nephilim think he can do to release us?” Magnus asks, voice impolite and full of jest . 

“There are some shards of metal over here,” Alec answers, ignoring the disbelief he is being served, “I think I can use one to unlock the shackles.”

Alec hears Magnus scoff. Hears the derision as he replies, “God you think a lot of yourself, Nephilim, you cannot think for a second that you’ll be successful. Why the hell would they have left scraps of metal lying around if they could help us escape? They’re clearly not idiots.”

“And they’ve clearly never met me.” Alec says, voice steely as he fights to take back control. “Now, do one of your little party tricks and shine a light over here so I can prove you wrong already.”

“Party tricks?” Magnus repeats, voice aghast. “Fucking party tricks? You have got to be joking…” his voice trails off into silence.

There’s no noise for at least thirty seconds and Alec is beginning to realise how badly he has fucked up. They are trapped here together and the only way out will be as a pair. Being hostile towards him will only make things worse even if the warlock is riling him up. 

As he’s about to speak, a torrent of water begins above them. It sluices through the hole above their heads and a puddle begins to form on the floor between them. 

“Quick!” Alec shouts, “A light please before I lose the metal. Come on!”

He’s about to yell something else, something less pleasant, when a ball of purple energy shoots towards him, spreading a glow around the dungeon. It is accompanied by a loud sigh that appears to have been projected for his ears alone above the waterfall pounding between them.

Alec knows the man will be visible again in the light, that he could stare once more on his beauty, but he has a job to do and the man’s face is not it right now. Besides he doesn’t really want to look. At least that’s what he tries to convince himself.

Focussing on his task, he bends carefully at the waist to see how close he can get to the metal shards. Close it turns out. Almost close enough to grab one. It’s annoying, he desperately needs to pick up two of them, they will make perfect lock picks but he’s a few inches out of reach.

He groans in frustration, the sound almost smothered as the water continues to flood in. But not completely. 

There’s an answering noise from Magnus, some language he has no hope of understanding, something that sounds guttural and angry. He hopes it’s not a curse while he’s at his most vulnerable. But there’s nothing he can do if it is. At least he will die having seen the most incredibly beautiful face he’ll ever lay eyes on. 

Suddenly the shards of metal are resting in his outstretched fingers, having hovered off the ground and up to him. 

He stares at them, completely shocked. It takes a while for him to understand what he just saw.

“But...but you said…”

“Well apparently it doesn’t apply to picking up tiny, inconsequential metal shards.” Magnus says nonchalantly, his own surprise at what he’s achieved almost hidden. “Now, you said you could use these damn things to escape so get on with it.”

Alec blinks several times, unable to slow down his heart as he thinks of the potential that the man across from him must usually have at his disposal. Unable to stop a curl of arousal low in his gut as he thinks about being with someone with that much power. It’s intensely attractive. It’s incredibly distracting.

“Nephilim,” the growl is loud and it snaps him back to attention, returns him to standing as he slips the metal into the shackle and begins to twist.

He’s grateful now that his mother refused to allow her children an ‘unlock’ rune, saying that they needed to learn some mundane skills to keep them alive. 

Memories of hours of lock picking practise on Sunday mornings flash through his head. Jace had hated it, said he wasn’t ever going to need to know how to do it, would rather be learning to fight with a staff or blade. Izzy had rather lazily demonstrated her own ability before revealing the ‘unlock’ she had etched below her breast and laughing at her brother’s surprise. _”We can’t always follow the rules Alec! Life would be so boring.”_

But Alec had wanted to make his mother proud, of course, and had diligently worked to master the art which he was entirely grateful for now as he heard a promising click. 

The water has slowed to a trickle and the light from Magnus’ magic is fading, so he quickly turns to the other wrist, turning the metal faster as he desperately searches for the pressure point. 

The tiny noise brings a huge sigh of relief and he drops the shackles to the floor, the clang reverberating around the chamber.

“No way!” 

“Yes, way!” Alec replies, rather smugly. “What was it you said? That I think a lot of myself and I would never be successful?”

Magnus huffs loudly, his reply petulant, “Yes, well my magic clearly helped.”

Alec can’t see him now, but he can imagine the warlock’s face, a lower lip jutting out and eyes twinkling as they banter. He is pretty certain Magnus is impressed. 

Well he hopes he is.

The light has gone, but he circles his wrists a few times to get the blood flowing again and then bends down to feel for the release at his ankles. The whole time, he can hear Magnus shuffling around, but no more pretty lights sparkle in the air.

When he’s free, he calls out to the warlock, “I’m going to come and release you too, is that okay?”

The response that arrives a second later is entirely sarcastic, “No, please don’t. Why on earth would I want to be freed from this wonderful place? Why I’ve made good friends with the snail currently climbing up my leg and I’d hate to leave him behind. No, no, you go Nephilim and leave this third class warlock here tied to the wall for all eternity.”

Alec giggles. He can’t help it. They erupt from his mouth in waves. It’s not a sound he can recall making before, yet it _is_ him making it. He knows because his chest is heaving as he laughs and he’s bending at the waist, hands resting on his knees as he huffs for breath.

“So you’re just going to stand over there making those cute little sounds and not bother to rescue me?” Asks the voice, a hint of humour laced with his words. 

“Cute?” Alec echoes as he rises to standing again. He’s never been called cute before and it is a surprise to him how much he likes it. 

“Yes, cute.” Magnus insists. “Now hurry up and release me so we can work out how to get out of here. I, for one, am not enjoying the thought of having to explain my absence to my clients, nor leaving this blood soaked into my favourite silk shirt for longer than it needs to be.”

“Blood? You’re hurt?” Magnus’ words spur something in Alec and he quickly marches over to the man, carefully unable to see properly but avoiding the glint of water on the floor and the space where it’s still dripping. 

He is welcomed by a curl of red magic that rises from the man’s fingers and up into the air, illuminating them both.

His legs are heavy, his arms ache badly, but when he sees Magnus all he wants to do is lift him up and pull him away from this hell they’ve been trapped in. 

Instead, he offers him a brief grin, almost keeling over at the full onslaught of the man. Up close, he’s definitely the most attractive man Alec has ever been in the presence of and he finds his focus slipping.

Quickly, he distracts himself by bending to kneel before him, hand tentatively reaching for the shackles around his ankle and beginning to pick the locks.

“A shadowhunter down on his knees for me…” Magnus breathes out, voice silky smooth, “Hasn’t happened for over 200 years.”

Alec freezes at the implication and then chances a swift glance upwards and sees that Magnus is leering down at him, eyes wide, a flirty grin in place. 

He can’t speak in the face of so much beauty and his own lustful feelings, so he looks away, trying not to smile and works on releasing the other man. 

It’s much easier when he can see properly and he soon has the left leg free. Unconsciously his fingers wrap around Magnus’ slender ankle and he rubs gently at the skin to wake it up before rotating it carefully to check its movement. 

He pauses, cheeks staining berry red when he hears Magnus’ soft cough from above.

“Well Alexander, this is service indeed,” is the cheeky comment, chains rattling as the warlock reaches out a hand to tug on a few strands of Alec’s hair. 

Alec pulls himself away sharply, whole body flinching at Magnus’ touch. Without looking up at the other man, he quickly releases the other foot, neglecting to rub life back into it at all. 

Standing, he can’t look the other man in the eye, he is not used to affection, other than an occasional hug from his brothers or sister, although these are truly few and far between. He wasn’t raised to crave touch. But Magnus… touching his hair however briefly… he could learn to crave that.

He grabs Magnus’ wrist with a little more force than he intended and begins to unlock it from its bindings. But it won’t budge. The other locks were easy, a few twists and he was able to open them, but this one… something is stopping him.

“It’s the werewolf skin. They’ve magicked it to stop you releasing me.” Magnus says, voice soft and calm. “That means a warlock is working with them.” Now he sounds a little ruffled, like he can’t quite believe one of his own people would turn on him. 

“Right.” Alec says, taking a half a step away from the warm body that he’s itching to move closer to. Instead, he steps to the side and examines the wall fixings, lifting his metal shards to insert them into these locks instead. 

He’s definitely not expecting the metallic click and nor is Magnus from the way his body jerks at the sound. 

“Impossible!” he breathes out. 

Alec laughs, whole body jerking a little, “No! Stupid! They obviously didn’t expect someone to find a way over here to help you. Thank the angel they didn’t.”

As he moves to unlock the other chain, he hears Magnus’ breathing change. He’s trained to notice everything about a situation and he has been cataloguing Magnus’ vitals since he first saw him. The hitch in his breath could mean anything, but when he finally frees Magnus from the wall, the fingers of his left hand drag over his shoulder, sparkles of silver magic illuminating his plain black shirt.

Alec shrugs the fingers from his shoulder and then he freezes, unsure what to do next.

When the warlock takes a step to the left, towards Alec, he shuffles backwards out of his way trying to put a little bit of distance between them so he can work out what to do next. 

But Magnus keeps coming, a tiny step at a time… backing Alec up until he’s pressed with cold stone against his back. 

“What’re you doing?” he asks, his voice not quite his own, body trembling a little at Magnus’ close proximity.

But Magnus takes another small step, his body lightly pressing against Alec’s, their muscled chests brushing, the cold steel on Magnus’ wrists pressing against his own freed arms. The chains clank noisily but it’s the only sound apart from Alec’s deep breathing.

He squeezes his eyes shut. “What are you doing?” he breathes out as he feels Magnus’ cold nose press against his cheek. 

“Thanking the Nephilim who saved my life,” Magnus whispers, his breath ghosting over Alec’s skin. 

Alec is frozen in place where Magnus touches him, heart pounding so fast it feels like it is about to dance out of his chest.

Eventually, he dares to open his eyes and finds the warm chocolate brown replaced by piercing golden cat eyes. He blinks in surprise, watching as they dilate slightly.

“Your eyes?” he questions, face alight with wonder - he’s heard of them but never seen a warlock mark up close. 

“Are you scared of them?” Magnus says, face cycling through a complicated mix of emotions as he studies Alec.

“Scared?” Alec asks, unsure how Magnus could ever think they were scary, “They’re beautiful!”

Magnus’ face melts into a soft smile as though he wasn’t expecting Alec to be impressed. Then the warlock takes a step away, chains clanking as he raises his hands and slips them up to cup Alec’s chin. 

“No-one’s ever called them beautiful before.” His voice is full of awe as he leans up and his lips graze Alec’s cheek, catching where a layer of stubble has crept over it while he’s been held captive.

His full body shiver lasts for long seconds and Magnus draws away, turning to look at their surroundings, seemingly unaware of his effect on Alec.

Pulling himself together, hands shaking a little as he brushes them down his chest to smooth out his shirt, he follows the warlock, stepping away from where he had released him and deeper into the shadows.

“Can you shine a little light?” he calls out and then the cave is lit with a golden glow, Magnus’ fingers stretched out in front of him. 

“Here,” he offers, linking their fingers, the glow tickling as it travels along his arm and up to rest on his shoulder. The small golden ball radiates a little heat and feels like comfort. 

“Amazing,” he whispers and Magnus drops his fingers. Alec feels their loss immediately, a chill creeping between his own.

“You’ve got to stop saying things like that.” Magnus says roughly, turning away and stepping deeper into the cavern.

“Things like what?” Alec asks, but there isn’t a reply. So he steps after him, the golden light showing him a safe route through the puddles of water and, scarily, the piles of chains abandoned on the ground. 

At one point he is certain he sees bones. Possibly mundane, possibly Nephilim. But he cannot stop to investigate even though the leader inside of him is screaming for him to look. 

Instead he follows an incredibly sexy warlock, who he has only just met and knows very little about, through a series of connected caves, each one darker and creepier than the last. 

He cannot believe the way his thoughts are swirling as he watches Magnus lead him through the caves. He _is_ sexy, very sexy and not at all like the men he has found himself ‘admiring’ before.

Usually if he looks at a man it will be during combat when they’re swinging a seraph blade around with skill, or celebrating a kill, covered in ichior. Then his heart will speed up and his skin will flush - but no-one will notice because they’re all the same after a demon fight. So he can get away with taking the time to look.

Here, in this dark cave, he feels like he’s at a feast. Magnus is on display just for him: his legs are the muscliest he’s ever seen, his chest the broadest, his shoulders the strongest. And his face? Alec could write poetry about that beautiful face. 

There are not enough superlatives to describe the warlock, although Alec would like to try. 

He feels hungry looking at him and for the first time in his, admittedly, short life, he’s actually considering doing something about it. 

He’s so lost in thought that when Magnus stops he slams into the back of him, his nose smarting where it clips one of those muscled shoulders. 

“Hey!” The warlock protests, stepping away into a fighting stance and turning to glare at him, “I happen to like this shirt and I don’t need Shadowhunter stench all over it! Unless you’re planning to rip it off me somewhere comfortable?”

Alec wants to complain and maybe get angry at the slur, but he’s transfixed by the warlock’s words and the way Magnus is holding himself, images of them sparring together projecting through his mind. 

He lets himself get carried away, imaging Magnus’ incredible biceps on display in a revealing vest top, twirling a staff around as he shows off for Alec, or being pinned beneath his weight on the training room floor as Magnus laughs and offers some quip or other. He goes even further, picturing himself pushing Magnus into one of the training room pillars and ripping off his shirt. It stirs something deep inside him and stirs something else...in his pants!

When he jerks back to himself, it’s because Magnus has relaxed his stance and is prodding his chest none too gently, complaining that he would like to get out of this bloody place as soon as possible and will Alec please help.

Alec blushes red and moves away, shaking off the last remnants of his fantasy, looking at where Magnus is pointing.

A huge boulder is leaning against one wall, faint glimmers of light at its edges. 

“I believe that might be the way out.” Magnus explains, indicating the light.

“You could be right,” Alec grudgingly admits as he steps forward, “Or it could lead directly to the kidnappers themselves as it seems a bit too obvious if you ask me.”

Magnus stares at him, cats eyes widening as though in disbelief, “I wasn’t asking you.” He finally says. “I was telling you that this is the way out in my professional opinion.”

“Your professional opinion?” Alec scoffs. “Who’s the one still bound and without his magic? Want to reword that?”

He hates the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but he can’t help himself. Magnus has riled him up and the only response is to attack. Attack and make Magnus hurt so he won’t want anything to do with him and will be horrible back and then Alec won’t like him any more.

Like. Him.

Oh god. He likes him. He doesn’t just want a quick tumble, he fancies the warlock, likes what he sees and likes the verbal sparring too. He is actively trying not to flirt with him. Shit! Alec really wasn’t expecting that.

He’s so lost in thought that he misses Magnus’ response, so when the purple blast of magic illuminates him he leaps backwards in surprise. 

“Did you not hear a bloody word I said, Shadowhunter?” he shouts, slamming his hands into Alec’s chest, no gentle touches this time. 

Alec’s back hits cold rock and he raises his own hands to push Magnus away. But instead he grips him close, fingers stretching around the huge muscles, pulling him against the length of his body. 

He sees the second Magnus understands what he wants and then a warm mouth is thrust over his own. 

Their lips slide together, Magnus’ pressing between his own. It’s an exhilarating feeling; the heated kisses making Alec’s blood pound.

The warlock’s arms wrap tightly around Alec holding him in place, cold chains dangling against his back (and that’s a kink he didn’t know he had!). He doesn’t fight it, giving himself over to the passionate embrace, finally giving in to his repressed emotions. 

And it’s amazing.

It’s not his first kiss, but it’s the first one with someone he has such a spark with. Someone he finds himself instantly attracted to, and not just physically.

They kiss like they can’t get enough, bodies aligned perfectly as they begin to thrust together. The hardness between Alec’s legs is reflected by Magnus and the pressure begins to build as they start up a slow grind.

It’s an intense feeling and Alec begins to softly whimper, unable to contain how he feels. Magnus reacts instantly, licking at his lips until Alec lets his tongue in.

And then everything kicks up a notch, Magnus hands find his nipples through his shirt, pinching and tugging on them sharply, making Alec groan louder and buck harder against him. 

He returns the favour, sliding his hands from Magnus’ biceps to cup his arse, fingers digging into the meaty flesh and squeezing him tighter against him. 

Then Magnus is the one making delicious sounds, panting against Alec’s mouth as they take each other apart one thrust at a time.

The tingles begin in Alec’s groin and spread up through his stomach into his chest and as far as his heart, where they stay, making him shiver and shake. 

“Are you...close?” Magnus pants, moving his own hands to hook around Alec’s hips, forcing him into a stuttering rhythm as they both come undone.

He can’t reply, needs all his breath to keep his body moving against Magnus’, instead biting down on the juncture of his neck, marking him as his. 

A final roll of Magnus’ hips has Alec yelling out, voice echoing around the cave as his pants fill with a warm, sticky liquid. 

The warlock masks his own screams of pleasure in Alec’s chest, panting so heavily that Alec’s whole body feels the warmth of his breaths. Then there’s a huge surge of golden magic, the biggest flashes Magnus has produced since he awoke and a loud cracking sound. It seems to thrum in the air for a long time as Alec watches before vanishing towards the boulder with the light around the edges.

He grips the other man close to him, feels him go lax in his hold and takes a moment to kiss his neck softly where he bit down, soothing the reddening mark and murmuring nonsense gently. 

When he’s finally caught his breath, he lifts his head, tipping Magnus’ up too with a finger and bends to press a kiss to his soft mouth.

The warlock stares at him, his eyes are chocolatey and sparkling again and it feels like they are pulling him closer.

“Alexander…” he breathes heavily, “What a surprise…”

Alec can’t speak, doesn’t know what to say. So he tries to show him with his eyes and his mouth and his hands what this meant to him, how he feels.

He’s still holding Magnus in his arms when light floods the cavern, drawing the warlock upright and away from him.

The immediate cold is a shock and he craves Magnus’ body against him own, but it’s not to be as three figures step carefully into the cave. 

“Magnus!” a dark skinned woman yells before she launches herself at the warlock, pulling him close, blue flickers of magic caressing his skin.

Then he’s being wrapped in Isabelle’s arms, Jace standing a pace away awaiting his turn. 

“Alec, we thought… well, I don’t know exactly what we thought but thank the angel we’ve found you!”

Jace replaces Isabelle and there is a knowing look in his parabati’s eyes as he glances from Alec to the warlock beyond. 

Alec shakes his head, asks him to stay quiet for now. He’ll tell them later, they deserve to know how he feels and who he feels it for. But it can wait for now. 

Instead, he pulls his brother and sister forward to where Magnus has stepped away from his friend.

“This is Magnus,” he says, “He saved us, I think.”

A slow grin overtakes Magnus’ face as he looks at Alec, eyes widening as they rove over to Isabelle. Then he pushes his own friend forward, “This is Catarina, Alexander, she’s the one who saved us.”

“He’s right.” Jace says simply, offering the two warlocks a smile. 

“I just followed his bursts of magic.” Catarina replies. “It was getting pretty vibrant towards the end there, very easy to follow in fact.” She nudges Magnus in the arm and Alec is surprised to see his cheeks redden. 

“Well, it was repressed, it needed help to be released…” Magnus murmurs, looking straight at Alec, allowing his eyes to roam over his face and body blatantly.

Alec’s whole body shivers again and then Isabelle is rubbing her hands over his arms, “Oh my goodness, you must be frozen Alec, in this damp cave and exposed to the elements like this, come on we need to get you back home. We can’t have the Head of the New York Institute incapacetated with a cold!”

‘Head of the Institute?’ Magnus mouths at him, eyes alight with pleasure. Alec groans internally as he tries to ignore the blush rising on his cheeks.

“Yes, and we need to get the bonds removed, Magnus.” Catarina interjects, tugging on the chains still binding Magnus’ wrists, “It’s not a good look for the High Warlock of Brooklyn to be almost magicless in front of a bunch of shadowhunters after all.”

“You’re the high warlock?” Alec blurts out, blushing instantly, but unable to stop himself.

“Yes!” Izzy says, laughing, “This is the guy I’ve been meeting once a month to sort out Downworld politics. I kept saying you needed to meet him, but it’s just never been the right time.”

“You’re Isabelle’s incredible brother then?” Magnus asks, his smile widening impossibly further. “The youngest head of the institute in over three centuries!”

“And you’re the high warlock who is actually supportive and wants to make peace between the shadowhunters and downworlders.” Alec replies, his own grin pulling his skin tight.

“Well, as happy as I am that you two have finally met,” Jace says, eyes telling Alec that he knows everything now, “I think we need to get out of here before the goons we had to fight wake up.”

It’s as they’re leaving, that Alec feels the tingle in his pants, the wetness receeding away from his groin. He looks over his shoulder to see Magnus’ knowing smile and can’t help but grin back.

He’s definitely taking over from Izzy at the Downworld meetings from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!
> 
> I'm on twitter @ClaireyCookey


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